By The People
by SomewhereApart
Summary: When the combined realms need a leader, everyone is tasked with voting—including a reformed-ish Evil Queen and her wish-created husband. For Inspired by OQ week, based on a doodle by @persnickets


He finds her in one of the libraries, lost in thought as she turns a piece of paper over and over again in hand.

She's in one of his favorite dresses, a simple blue velvet with a corset around the middle, a bit of beading at her shoulders. She wears it only here, with him, or when she's going to travel by magic alone. She doesn't wear it out. As such, it feels private, theirs—and feels incredibly soft beneath his touch.

He itches to reach for her even now, but her lips are pursed just slightly, a small knit in her brow giving away her troubled state of mind. It wouldn't do to sneak up on a pensive witch.

So he clears his throat softly, watches her startle predictably, then smooth her face into something more welcoming. A smile, and an affectionate, "Hello, thief," and he's sliding into the seat beside her without having to dodge any surprised fireballs.

"Hello, my darling," he greets her, leaning in to steal a kiss. "What has you so deep in thought?"

Her smile slips, making way for the pensive expression once more, a small frown on her lips as she sets down the paper she'd been mulling over so intently. She slides it over in front of him, and Robin picks it up.

It's a ballot.

"What's this?" he asks, as he skims the names. Regina Mills right at the top, and then a few others. Snow White, and Elsa of Arendelle, and a King from one of the maritime kingdoms that had come over in the curse. A few names he doesn't recognize, but then he's not really kept up with the politics of this place—Storybrooke—since all the magical realms were brought here. He's perfectly happy in their castle on the hill, hunting the land around them with their son (not his, truly, nor hers–the _other_ Robin's, but he's been around Roland since the lad was a just a floppy-haired boy, so it's as though he's his now, too) or the Merry Men, or entertaining one of the many versions of Regina or Henry when they come for tea. (Or something stronger, in Regina's case, more often than not.)

"A decision has been made," Regina begins to tell him carefully, with an air of annoyance, "that _someone_ has to run this place. With all these kingdoms here, there's no consistency, no true hierarchy, and too many cooks in the kitchen. According to Regina, every other meeting of the kingdoms' leaders devolves into a bicker-fest that accomplishes nothing. So Snow has decided a leader should be chosen—democratically. She wants a vote, so…" She gestured toward the paper before them. "... we have a ballot."

"Having trouble deciding?" he wonders, "Or is there some other reason for your scowl?"

She sighs, softly but not happily, reaching over to trace her index finger across the swirling whorls of Regina's name.

"She—I— _we_ never wanted the crown," she tells him, needlessly. He's been married to her for years; he knows her scars, her demons. The nightmares of that man that still shake her awake in the night. "That last thing we wanted was a coronation, and a kingdom, and… all of that. We were raised for it, bred for it, but…" She looks up at him then, dark eyes stormy and conflicted. "What if she doesn't want this? Ruling one kingdom is headache enough—but _all_ of them? All of the realms?"

"She didn't submit herself for consideration?" he wonders. Democracy is a far cry from monarchy, he knows. You have to run, you have to want it.

Except, apparently, when it's organized by Snow White, because Regina tells him, "No, it's a secret ballot. Nobody on it knows it exists. Snow didn't want an ugly campaign, just the 'unbiased will of the people.' The candidates were selected by… well… her."

Robin smirks at that, shaking his head. That sounds just like something the former Princess would do (as does putting Regina's name at the top of the list, come to think of it).

"I don't think the will of the people sounds like a bad thing," he reasons. But he knows her reservations run deeper than that, so he slides an arm around her shoulders, and draws her in close. Regina pillows her head onto his shoulder with another conflicted sigh, and Robin presses a kiss there.

"I want to vote for her," she tells him. "She's a good leader—being anything less would be unthinkable to our mother, and quite frankly we ran one of the most secure, prosperous kingdoms in all of Misthaven. Those pathetic little men squabbled over everything while we secured our border, and fortified trade routes, and increased literacy and employment, and decreased crime."

He can't help but smile—always, when she gets like this. She may never have wanted to rule, but she was damn good at it, and she has no problem tooting her own horn over the considerable success.

"I mean, sure, we were a bit… overzealous on the capital punishment, but…"

Robin laughs outright at that, and says, "I bet some of them even deserved it."

It causes her to raise her head and smirk at him, one brow arching as she confirms, "Some of them."

"You said you'd loved it here," he reminds her. "After the curse."

That brow falls again; she tilts her head curiously.

"Once you were free to rule without the stigma of the Evil Queen, you said you found it incredibly rewarding." He parrots back what she's told him in the past: "Being Regina Mills, small town mayor. Seeing to the needs of your people. It made you feel productive, useful. Respected, if not loved. You found solace in it, and purpose. After you'd given Henry to David, and when the other me was off with his Marian, didn't you say it was the only thing you'd found comfort in?"

She looks back to the ballot, traces her name across the top line again, and admits, "Yes… Other than Henry and Robin, this town has been my... biggest love, I suppose. Silly as that sounds. I've always been proud of Storybrooke, and the work we did here. But this isn't the town, it's everything. It isn't the mayorship, it's a crown."

"It's the will of the people electing a leader," he shrugs. "How different is it, really? Just a bigger populace, and a grander title. New challenges. You do always like a challenge, and people who keep you on your toes."

She smiles at that, his wife, and nods her concession. "This is true."

"I think you should choose whoever you think would do the best job," he says. "And for the record, I think that would be you. Or rather, your other half. There's nobody better suited to boss around the entire populace than your stubborn self."

She snorts, and whacks him playfully on the chest, sliding a second ballot over from the envelope hers had surely come from. "Well, then you can vote for her."

"Gladly. Proudly," he grins. "And you? How will you vote, milady?"

Regina's gaze slides to the ballot again, a satisfied smile curving her lips as she answers, "I'm with her."


End file.
